


A Game of Chance

by kryptic



Category: Dishonored
Genre: Drabble, Gambling, Gen, The Void
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 23:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2168538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kryptic/pseuds/kryptic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dice have an interesting weight in his hand. If they touched his skin, he knows that they would be smooth, even. These are a nobleman’s dice, carved of ivory from the great leviathans. He slips them into his pocket, where they sit against his chest.</p>
<p>It’s a mistake to fall asleep with them there.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Itty bitty drabble originally written for doofy rp purposes. Prompt: Game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Game of Chance

The gambler dies quickly, bleeding out all over his money as he slumps forward across the table. Daud swipes the coin, staining his gloves red. After a moment’s thought, he turns back and picks up the dice. They have an interesting weight in his hand. If they touched his skin, he knows that they would be smooth, even. These are a nobleman’s dice, carved of ivory from the great leviathans. He slips them into his pocket, as well, where they sit against his chest.

It’s a mistake to fall asleep with them there.

At first, the dream is no different from any other. He appears in the Void and prepares for whatever sermon the Outsider has prepared for him this time. But the deity cocks his head to the side rather curiously instead, his arms crossed as always over his chest.

“I didn’t think that you gambled, Daud.”

Only then does the assassin realize what’s still in his pocket. His confusion reads in the downward quirk of his eyebrows, almost, but not quite, a scowl.

“I don’t,” he replies tersely.

“No. You like to think that you’re in control of the odds, don’t you? Even after so long as one of my devotees. I thought that you would have learned differently.”

It’s the same circular debate that they’ve been having for years. Daud’s nature is not the kind that relinquishes control or indulges in pointless games. He’s above that kind of behavior, and doesn’t enjoy observing it. Unlike present company.

The Outsider sweeps a dramatic hand to the side. That gesture alone is enough to signal what’s coming. Daud stiffens, and the Outsider’s smooth, serpentine voice slithers on.

“Why don’t you play a game with me?”

His reply is automatic, reflexive. “I don’t feel very much like playing games.”

“What if I made a wager on it?” the deity asks, his tone sly.

Daud’s eyes narrow. “I’m listening.”

That’s a lie. He’s hooked already.

“I’ll bestow a new power upon you if you beat me.”

“And if I lose?”

Once again, the Outsider’s head quirks to the side. He waves a hand vaguely, blasé.

“Don’t worry, Daud. The entertainment will be payment enough for me.”

His words go ignored. Daud is still very much worried. There can’t be an upside to playing games with an omniscient being. Nevertheless, he pulls the dice from their pouch and palms them.

As a man who’s spent a vast part of his life in the city’s underworld, he’s well accustomed to the business that follows, even if he disdains it. All things said and done, the assassin is actually a fair hand at games of chance. He knows the rules of probability, at least, which is more than most of the rattlebrained idiots in Dunwall’s pubs can say. And he’s not above cheating. His quick hands allow him to do it quite well.

“Do you know how to play hazard?” he asks.

If he was human, the Outsider might smile. Instead, his amusement flashes ever so briefly across his face.

“I know everything.”

Daud suppresses a snort, though his lip twitches momentarily into a sneer. Keeping his eyes on the deity, he kneels on the firmament of the Void and clenches the dice tightly.

“I’ll shoot for seven,” he announces.

It’s simple math, really. He’s judging chance and return, with full knowledge of how the Outsider feels about such behavior. It’s the sort of conduct that makes him ‘boring’, ‘uninteresting’, loses him favor in the god’s eyes. In retrospect, perhaps it isn’t the best idea, given what he knows about the black eyed bastard. But he does it anyway.

The dice clack in his hand when he shakes them and rolls. When he glances up briefly while the dice settle, the Outsider is seated, his folded legs hovering a few inches from the ground. It’s a strange sight, one that diverts him from the outcome of his throw. Seconds later, his gaze snaps back to the dice.

Eight.

He curses quietly under his breath and scoops them back up. It’s not as bad as it could be.

The Outsider looks on with fascination as he rolls again and again and again. Six, five, ten and five.

At last, absentmindedly, he rubs the dice between his hands in the superstitious fashion of habitual gamblers. Only when they’re warm does he toss them, and they seem to tumble for a few moments longer than normal before settling.

Eight.

Daud raises a brow and leaves them there as he stands. Better that they stay in the Void, where they belong. He doesn’t want a reminder of this moment, and the great whale deserves his teeth back.

“The reward you promised me?” he inquires. Greedy, as always.

Something like a laugh echoes somewhere in the distance, or perhaps only in Daud’s own mind. The Outsider’s lips remain still, no sound emerging from his throat for a long while. Those dark eyes bore into him, straight through him. His chest hurts.

“Dearest Daud,” the leviathan says, and raises a graceful hand, “I give you the power to choose your own fate.”


End file.
